Don't give up on me, baby
by iDoctorOptimus
Summary: Veralee was normal as normal could ever get. But heaven bent and flung her to the depths of hell called Mystic Falls. Could you blame her hate towards her life after what events pierced her once innocent soul? And all because of Damon Salvatore.
1. Undead selfpity

Clouds. Bright, white colored clouds that outstretched beneath my pale feet as I stared at the equally vivid light burning the pupils of my gray eyes.

The silver orbs of mine, moist with raging tears as my hands tried to block the light away from my vision.

_I don't want to be here_, not now.

My thoughts cried out as the light got brighter and my skin began to burn with the intense heat radiating from it.

I felt warm and numb, but I didn't want this yet.

_No_, please..

My vision blurred as my tears poured down my ghostly face, sliding to my chin before evaporating into the clouds beneath my toes.

"Do not fret," a booming voice called from the light as I let out a cry in surprise and held my body tight.

"Your time has yet to come, child," the voice whispered, but the sound waves echoed through my ears harshly, making me flinch at the ringing noise that bounced around my head for minutes. "You are needed elsewhere, to protect the soul of another; someone who needs you more than we do."

The intense light decreased as I uncovered my face to see a floating white orb in front of me, with a golden ring spiraling around it with beauty that was indescribable.

The orb moved around my body gently, nipping at my bloody form as the tears slowed down and left my silver eyes glistening under it's vision.

"You shall be granted a second chance," the orb announced as it left my body, leaving me to look down to reveal my body wrapped in a flowing white dress that waved in the new breeze being tossed around from the orb's movement.

I took in a raspy breath, my voice regaining as I looked up from my attire and let out another cry, "I'm not going to die?"

The orb crinkled and waved as a cello sounding laugh escaped from somewhere inside of it, "You are already dead, my dear."

My breath and voice relapsed back into the deepest of my throat as the tears regained once again.

"But death is just the beginning for you, my child."

* * *

><p>I finished putting away the contents in the last moving box as I took a deep breath, looking around my new home softly as sobs wretched up my throat.<p>

_Death_.

My greatest fear aching my warm body as I looked at my glowing hands that gleamed under the sun that was peeking through the curtains.

_I am not dead_. But I am no longer a normal teenager who gets to live her normal teenage years in the embraces of her closest friends from high school.

**No**. Instead, I am a involuntary angel who was sent back to earth for the purpose of a man; _I have yet to meet_.

The orb, whom I could only imagine as the higher being himself, had granted me a second chance at my life. Because I had to embrace a man here in Mystic Falls, Virginia, that seemed to need my presence more than Heaven itself.

_Does that even sound sane? _However, in my head or not, I still can't accept my new _assignment, _with my life, that clashed so hard with my first one.

I was always the good child, out of all the troubled ones I was mixed in with. I never got in trouble, or attempted to harm anything. Instead, I sat back with a book and read to the somewhat behaved children, that couldn't read themselves.

Never did I back mouth, or insult a person. Not even those who, quite frankly, deserved it.

My life was never far to interesting, I had friends and a small family that rarely saw each other: but kept in touch. I had a cat named Prisila back when I was eight, and took care of her until she had to be put down because of a broken leg.

I had never questioned how the powers of life worked.

So why do I have to be shown something, that I didn't wish to be shown?

_Maybe I'm being ungrateful_, and I'm sorry. But for my life to be taken away by the actions it was taken, I partially believe I am entitled some self-pity for my situation.

You try being killed by a selfish man who couldn't wait to get home to open up another bottle of beer and enjoy his drunken life happily.

_Which, he did, by the way_. With no regret that he had hit and killed a nineteen year old girl who was just trying to stay as far away from the road as possible.

I was about a carport away from the large road that took up the suburban streets of San Francisco, minding my own business, when he decided that the street itself was not big enough for his tiny Volkswagen: and swerved his way into my body.

My life ended on impact, and he was left unharmed and safe to just wobble off and finish his journey home.

So I highly think that my small selfish act, was allowed to take a toll on my new life.

* * *

><p>A black vintage dress graced my figure as I let out a huff and made my way down the small sidewalk of the seemingly small town I recently found myself being tossed to.<p>

_Was I some type of football in life? _Because that is seriously what I feel like.

Being passed around the instant my lights went out in San Francisco, _get it?_

Don't judge me for my indecent humor. **I've had a hard day**.

My long brown spiraling curls blew around my moping face, making me feel like I was wearing a fluffy mask just so no one else would notice it.

I stopped at a little cross way and folded my arms across my chest as I noticed a few cars speeding there way past me.

_Torture_. Maybe I miss interpreted my surroundings, because after my deathly incident; that is all I feel like is being given to me.

So instead of fluffy and innocent looking clouds that my mind could have just came up with to hide the true evil that was, was harsh weapons of slavery and petrifying agony that wreaked of hell.

Sighing, I shook my head and looked both way before I glided across the road with my head held high.

If I was going to endure this new life of mine successfully, I was not going to be that completely innocent child who couldn't take care of herself anymore.

**No**. I'm going to let my wild side break out and let this place know just how angry I am with _my life_.

If I can even call it my life.

Remember now, I was only put back here to present my serenity to some man who probably kills kittens for breakfast. _Oh how lovely_.


	2. Fairytales do not exist

"_Once Upon a time, there lived a once ordinary girl with her heart buried beneath her chest with every intention to keep it there. Guarded by caged ribs of steel, blocking off invading men who tried endlessly to make their way into her soul. And then came the man with the stone face, and distrusting eyes. Having been broken for years, his heart worn out of love and replaced with anger. Two hearts separated over bridges and bones, with the everlasting shot at a new redemption. Something both had been neglected, rejected and mistreated from over time_. _**Love**_."

I read aloud, the pen I had been writing with stuck between my teeth as I glared down at the piece of trash I had written.

_It that what you heavenly beings think is going to happen? _My thoughts raged as my eyes furrowed in frustration.

**Fairytales do not exist**.

How pathetic that I could even write such a disturbing myth of two torn people just up and falling in love. _It's impossible_.

I've learned that love doesn't exist for _people_ like me.

The ones who were neglected as a child, and spent mostly hidden behind books; the genre ranging from _horror_ to _scientific_. Skipping over false beliefs of white horses and glass slippers that held no interest in the beholder what so ever.

So excuse me for having been brought up the way I was.

I could sit and tell a child about their prince charming, because maybe I'll save them from turning out like me. But for me to believe it myself, was repulsive.

Not the problem child, never the one to get caught doing something bad.

My traits all that of a good daughter, yet still I never was looked upon by my parents with proud eyes.

_Was that why I was taken away?_ Because I would never be missed, or thought of once I left the lives of those I though mattered to me?

Sighing, I shook away my thoughts and crumpled up the paper I had written, giving up on trying to mark out my given name that I stupidly placed at the top of the paper, before I tossed it into the trash can that stood beside the small medal bench I was sitting on, just outside of a place called the Grill.

My life wasn't all to be fond of, now and before this one. So why am I even here?

Tapping my fingernails against the bench, before I tried to tame my curly brown hair, I stood up and gathered my small notebook that I decided to carry with me, before I ditched the bench to find somewhere else to occupy my time.

* * *

><p>Damon ran his hands through his hair as he casually walked down the sidewalk of Mystic Falls, glancing around as he held in a glare to the couple leaning against the walls and enjoying each others company.<p>

_He wanted to feel that affection_. Was that so wrong? That for once he wanted to look into a woman's eyes, with love, instead of the act to compel?

Taking in an unneeded breath, Damon turned away from the sucking-face teenagers, and continued his journey down the patch of green grass that made up a small little picnic area for visitors.

His eyes catching on a crumbled piece of paper that seemed to bounce out of the trash can as he went to pass, smelling like lavender and ocean breeze.

The piece of trash making him curious as he leaned down and swooped it up between his fingers, unwrapping the disheveled material gently so it wouldn't tear. And letting his icy blue eyes wash over the text scribbled far to neatly on the paper.

Veralee Alexandrie.

"_Once Upon a time, there lived a once ordinary girl with her heart buried beneath her chest with every intention to keep it there. Guarded by caged ribs of steel, blocking off invading men who tried endlessly to make their way into her soul. And then came the man with the stone face, and distrusting eyes. Having been broken for years, his heart worn out of love and replaced with anger. Two hearts separated over bridges and bones, with the everlasting shot at a new redemption. Something both had been neglected, rejected and mistreated from over time_. _**Love**_."

The words catching him by surprise, but piercing his heart at it's passion.

_Snap out of it, Damon._ His thoughts shot, _Life isn't a fairytale, nor is it hopeful._

Shaking his head, Damon Salvatore took another look at the paper before he shamelessly folded it neatly under his fingertips and placed it inside his leather jacket. Letting it brush against his chest, and sending him into a fit of adoration as the sent blew into his nose so innocently.

"Veralee Alexandrie." He whispered under his breath, catching her middle name from the french origin; defender of mankind.

_The irony and yet sincerity ones name holds_. He thought as he set his eyes on his dinner for the night.


	3. Notice

I will be posting a lot of my stories on Mibba, just search for my member ID, 226090. Or .


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